


C'mon

by lonniek



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Human, College Student Derek, College Student Stiles, M/M, PWP, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Recreational Drug Use, Shameless Smut, Wordcount: 5.000-10.000
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-01
Updated: 2015-06-01
Packaged: 2018-04-02 08:58:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,337
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4054168
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lonniek/pseuds/lonniek
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After Derek is dumped by his ass of an ex-boyfriend, Erica drags him to the club to drown his sorrows in boys, booze, and beats.</p>
<p>And that's when Stiles shows up.</p>
            </blockquote>





	C'mon

**Author's Note:**

> This is literally just porn. Like, 8,000 words of porn. I'm not sorry?

Derek couldn’t believe it. Erica had actually managed to get him to leave the house. “There’s only so much you can do when he leaves you for a woman.” The words from Erica’s last scolding were burned in his mind. His last boyfriend, some asshole named Lucas, wasn’t worth his tears, especially since it seemed like he was completely over Derek. Still, what Derek couldn’t believe was that, that very same night, Erica had taken them to Jungle, insisting that if he got laid, he’d stop moping around their apartment.

He still couldn’t believe it as he ordered another beer from the bar. “Bad break up?” a voice asked from beside him, and Derek started as he turned. “Didn’t mean to scare you,” he said by way of apology. He smiled, and Derek was disarmed.

“No, you’re fine,” he assured, looking the guy up and down. He was fine indeed, Derek’s mind supplied as he took in a face full of freckles and moles, lips that were full and slightly parted. Derek’s eyes skittered over the man’s bare chest, toned with the promise that it would be taut if he were to touch it. Derek wanted, but realized the man was looking at him with his open mouth tilted just so upward at the corners.

“Cat got your tongue?”

“Oh, I just hadn’t been expecting…my friend brought me out.” Derek waved vaguely to where Erica was pressed between two bodies, gyrating more than dancing. But it was to the beat, and Derek had to give her that much. He didn’t dance.

“Do you want to dance?”

“I don’t even know your name,” Derek yelled over the rising noise from the crowd as the DJ played a popular tune.

“Stiles! Do you want to dance with me…?”

“Derek,” he supplied. The name hung in the air and for a second, Derek thought he’d done something wrong. But Stiles smiled a moment later.

“So, Derek,” he said, like he was tasting the name in his mouth, “do you want to dance with me?”

“Yes,” Derek said, more a plea than an answer, and Stiles grabbed his hand. Derek left his beer on the counter without a second thought. The electricity that shot through his body when Stiles grabbed his hand was intense.

After a long struggle of being pulled through the crowd, sweaty and kissing bodies touching and panting and groping, Derek and Stiles found a space just big enough for two people. And just like that, Stiles was on him. The song was just warming up, and Stiles put one firm hand on Derek’s waist, sliding it around to rest his fingertips at the vase of his spine. His other arm came up to Derek’s shoulder. Derek shuddered as he felt Stiles slip one leg between his, press their chests closer together, and rock to the beat. His hands fumbled to find a place on Stiles, but settled quickly.

At first glance, Derek had mistaken Stiles’ long arms for clumsy and lanky. But to his surprise and infinite pleasure, Stiles’ arms were firm and hinted at hours of working out, possibly sports, and were graceful as he held Derek where he wanted him to dance against.

“Relax,” Derek heard in his ear, and looked down to see Stiles grinning at him.

“Sorry,” he half-shouted.

“It’s cool.” There was a pause, and then, “You look really hot.”

“Thanks.”

“Tall, dark, and silent type, are you?”

“Sor—“

“It’s cool,” Stiles said again. He disentangled his right arm from Derek’s back pocket and plunged his fingers into his own. “Here, take a hit,” he said as he pulled his hand back to Derek’s line of sight. “It’ll help you relax.” Suddenly, Stiles’ wide eyes, parted lips, his eagerness, made sense. Derek started to say no, but Stiles interrupted him. “I’m not a creep. You just look like you could use some relaxation, is all.”

“Sure, yeah,” Derek said, and held his palm out. Stiles shook his head and finger at Derek to the beat, and then stuck his tongue out and motioning for Derek to do the same. Derek flushed and sputtered, but opened his mouth, and Stiles put the tip of his finger on Derek’s tongue. Derek closed his lips around Stiles’ fingertip and sucked. Stiles gasped and pressed his groin into Derek’s thigh. Derek laughed and let go of Stiles’ finger.

“Wow,” Stiles yelled, quickly swallowed up by the music, and Derek nodded, letting the beat take him as Stiles started dancing again with renewed vigor. He was still moving too well, too good at the swivel of the hips that pressed their cocks together through the scratchy fabric of their jeans, for Derek to follow him, but he tried, managing a halfway decent sway to the beat.

Ten minutes later, though, Derek could see why Stiles had foregone his shirt. The press of the people was stifling, and he felt hot and stuffy in his own clothing. He pulled his forehead away from Stiles’, where they’d been staring at each other for longer than Derek thought to count, and took a deep breath. Stiles gave him a questioning look, but Derek gave a quick glance around before pulling off his shirt in one swift motion and tucking it into his belt. If Erica ever found out that he’d taken off his shirt in a drug-induced sweat, he’d never hear the end of it.

“No fucking way,” he heard, and looked at Stiles again, who was staring at Derek like he wanted to eat him, touch him, something, and Derek’s body was having a hard time finding the words to say no to whatever it was Stiles wanted. “No _fucking_ way,” Stiles repeated, and his voice was dark, made Derek see stars in the different colors of the lights that bounced off the floor. “You are so hot.” Derek smiled.

“You are too.”

“No, but you’re like… _fuck_.” Derek meant to ask what that meant, but a new song came on, one that Derek recognized when he heard Erica cleaning the apartment (she liked to bop around to Top 40s with her duster as a microphone). It was one of the songs that he didn’t mind so much, and he could feel the bass from the song buzzing all the way to his toes.

Stiles must have seen the way his eyes changed, went just a little bit unfocused as the music poured through the speakers. The lights went white and bounced around the walls, off of people, and the glimmer of sweat and dust and cigarette smoke was illuminated in the air. “Let’s dance,” Stiles said, and turned, back to Derek’s chest. Derek nodded and felt his hips moving to the beat as his arms wound around Stiles’ waist. One hand held tight to his hip, and the other ran down his thigh, squeezed, and rested there. Stiles’ hands were by no means still. They found their way back to Derek’s back pockets, and squeezed his ass periodically.

When the beat stopped, and then dropped, Stiles ground his hips in a figure eight, ass pressed against Derek’s cock, and the lights reflected colors that shifted rapid-fire. Derek gasped, and his eyes fluttered as his mind zeroed in on the fact that he had a man in his hands, in between his legs, on his chest, who wanted him. Derek leaned his head down and ran his nose against the skin of Stiles’ neck. Stiles shivered, but kept to the beat, faltering only for a moment when it was Derek’s tongue instead of his nose.

“Yeah?” Stiles asked in a rushed whisper. He pressed closer, and threaded his hand through Derek’s where it sat on his thigh. “Yeah, c’mon,” he urged, and Derek nodded, closing his lips around a spot on Stiles’ neck. Stiles tensed for a second as the slow suction started, but relaxed and moaned as the bass drowned out the sound. Derek could taste the sweat on Stiles’ neck, and it tasted just like Derek thought it would. He figured the thought should scare him just a little bit, because he’d never wondered what other people tasted like before, but gave the thought up in favor of tasting the salty-sweet of Stiles’ skin. He sucked in, vaguely aware of the fact that other people were around, and that somewhere, Erica was giving herself a high five, but he couldn’t find it in himself to care.

Derek broke away from Stiles’ neck on a moan, exhaled against it and kissed it dry. Stiles led Derek’s hand up to his crotch, let Derek feel how turned on he was. Derek pressed his hips forward, and his own erection pressed against Stiles’ ass, which, though he wasn’t dancing, wasn’t completely still. Everything seemed to be buzzing, even the things that weren’t supposed to be moving seemed to forget that rule just a little bit, and hopped at the insistence of the bass. Stiles moaned, but Derek felt in rather than hearing it, and then Stiles was turning around.

“Oh, my God, kiss me,” Stiles demanded, wrapping his arms around Derek’s shoulders.

“Yeah,” Derek said quickly. He wrapped his own arms around Stiles’ waist, leaned in and shivered as their chests pressed together, and kissed him. Derek’s eyes closed, but he could still see colors dancing and floating behind his eyelids as he opened his mouth and Stiles’ tongue was in it before he could even think. Stiles was nothing if not determined to break Derek apart. He sucked Derek’s lower lip into his mouth, and Derek’s answering groan only prompted Stiles to bite it. “Fuck,” Derek said weakly as he gasped and jumped.

“Sorry?” Stiles sounded anything but. He backed off just enough to drop his hand onto Derek’s waist and tug his hips close again, so that the bulge of their cocks in their jeans ground against each other. Stiles whimpered, but kept the contact, swayed against the beat and opposite Derek’s movements for friction. Derek reached down to grab Stiles’ ass and press him closer. “Fuck,” Stiles said, and then they both laughed, breathless. “I want you to—fuck,” he said, taking a steadying breath. “Come home with me?”

“Yeah,” Derek nodded. “Yeah, okay.” He watched as relief washed over Stiles’ face and smiled, was rewarded with Stiles’ hand curling around his cock through his pants. When he squeezed, Derek’s hips jerked in Stiles’ hand. The buzzing was back, and Derek liked it. He took Stiles’ hand and was planning on leading them back through the crowd when he came face to face with a head of curly blonde hair and a smirk.

“Leaving?” Erica yelled over the music, and Derek cursed every bone in Erica’s body. “Who’s this?”

“Stiles,” Derek answered for him, and Stiles looked content to run his hand up and down Derek’s ass, squeezing when he felt like it, as he talked to his roommate. Derek clenched his jaw when Stiles squeezed again, and made it a point to cut the conversation short.

“I called you. Twice!”

“Uh huh.”

“What do you mean ‘uh huh’? Are you _high_!?” Erica’s shriek was more shocked that Derek knew how to do anything other than work and eat than it was pissed off.

“My bad,” Stiles spoke up from Derek’s side, where he looked like he was anything other than apologetic. Derek looked at the way his eyes were still dark, and he couldn’t quite make out their color in the dim light of the club.

“I’m going to his place,” Derek said definitively, to which Erica chuckled and raised an eyebrow.

“I told you so,” Erica said, pinched Stiles’ cheek, and then turned and walked off, leaving more than one pair of eyes staring at the legs attached to four inch heels and a skirt of just about the same length.

“You know her?” Stiles asked as Derek pulled him to follow in her wake. He changed directions as she was pulled to dance, toward the exit.

“She’s my roommate.”

“She’s pretty hot to just be your roommate.” Stiles’ tone was questioning.

“I’m a nine out of ten on the gay scale, much to her disappointment,” Derek answered, and Stiles laughed out loud. His laughter sounded warm to Derek’s ears, and he smiled back, paused as the exited the club to kiss him hard and thorough on the mouth.

“My car is over there,” Stiles said after they broke apart, and Derek had never walked to the car in a less dignified manner before. They rushed, stealing touches and pausing to groan or gasp, until Stiles pushed Derek up against a jeep—he hoped it was Stiles’ jeep—and slotted his thigh between Derek’s legs.

“Oh, my God. _Unh_ , oh my God, Stiles,” Derek gasped, feeling almost woozy with the force of his desire. Stiles nodded back, in the same state of mind as he kissed a line up Derek’s neck until they were kissing. Stiles, Derek realized about twelve seconds into the kiss, had this way of making a half-aborted gasping noise whenever Derek moaned, and it made Derek see spots.

“Whoa, whoa there,” Derek heard Stiles say, and Derek opened his eyes, whining when Stiles wasn’t kissing him anymore.

“What?” Derek said, throat dry as he reached out for Stiles and was stopped by a soft hand pressing against his chest. He realized he had one leg locked around Stiles’ ankle, pulling him in close, and was rucking upward with more determination in every thrust. Stiles untangled their legs and took a deep breath. All of a sudden, the cold from the air around him became that much more real, and Derek shivered.

“I love how eager you are for this. I promise I am, too. But I gotta get you to my house or I’m gonna come in my pants and I haven’t done that since high school and I’d like to avoid a repeat. Cool?”

“Can you drive?” Derek asked, realized that he should have asked earlier, before Stiles had even insinuated that they would be getting into a car that one of them would have to drive.

“Yeah, I’m good. Coming down. Don’t worry; if you want, I can take another hit before I fuck you.” Before I fuck you. It was a promise. Derek swallowed hard. He’d only ever been on top, and Lucas was a pushy bottom who got what he wanted most of the time. But he didn’t protest. Instead, Derek turned to the car door and pressed his forehead against the cool metal frame. He took three deep breaths, waited for Stiles to unlock the car door, but nothing happened. “Hey, are you good?” Derek frowned and spun around again, face to face with a very concerned looking Stiles who was worrying at his lower lip. Derek put his thumb on top of Stiles’ lower lip, and it fell from between his teeth. “Nervous habit,” he said around Derek’s finger. “You good?”

“I’ve never…this…I’ve only ever…” Derek tried to gesticulate exactly what he meant with his free hand, and somehow Stiles got it. He didn’t say that he understood, but Derek watched Stiles’ eyes light up with understanding.

“C’mon, I’ll take care of you.” The next thing Derek heard was the clicking of the unlocking of the jeep. Stiles’ footsteps faded as he walked around the car, and Derek pulled out his phone.

_I’m pretty sure I’m crazy. He’s also really hot. He also wants to top._ He sent the text to Erica, and then pulled open the car door and hoisted himself into the passenger seat. Instead of buzzing, the world seemed stale and motionless with only the artificial light from the parking lot, and Derek’s mind provided images of all of the things that could be lurking in the dark, when this was over. But then his phone was buzzing and Stiles was starting the car, telling Derek to buckle his seatbelt. He did as Stiles told him before looking at his cell phone.

_!!!_ was all the text said, and Derek sighed and rolled his eyes, but put his phone away. When he looked up, the jeep still wasn’t in motion, and Stiles was staring at Derek again.

“Is this the first time you’ve gotten high?”

“My sister got me to smoke weed once.”

“Well,” Stiles said, shifting the jeep into gear and reversing out of his parking space. “Sometimes the lights and the other cars can be a little bit…overwhelming.” Stiles sounded like he was speaking from experience, but didn’t offer a story. “If you start to freak out, just find a way to try to distract yourself. Close your eyes, tell a story, sing, you know? Stay in the moment.” The car rolled slowly out of the parking lot, and Derek’s heart started to pick up, trying and failing not to anticipate when or if the feeling would come.

“What do you do?”

“When I freak out, I talk,” Stiles said, and chuckled. “My mouth gets me into trouble sometimes.” Derek barked a laugh.

“Yeah, I’ll bet.” The double entendre behind his words made Stiles chuckle and rest his palm on Derek’s thigh. Derek relaxed, hadn’t even realized he’d been tense.

“My house is like ten minutes away,” he said, and Derek nodded and closed his eyes as Stiles hit the gas. Derek felt the car speed up under him, and was expecting a rush of adrenaline to tell him that he was in the middle of a serious stimulation overload. What he got instead, though, was a rush of arousal, sparking through his body and settling low in his gut. His cock, which had lessened from a dull ache to half hard, twitched with renewed interest. Derek moaned despite his tries to be quiet. “Derek?” Stiles asked quietly, and he felt the car start to slow down.

“No, wait. Rev it again.” Stiles raised an eyebrow, but did as Derek asked as they rolled quickly away from a stop sign. The jeep rumbled, and Derek’s cock jumped again. “ _Oh_ ,” Derek said, reaching down to palm himself through his jeans.

“Oh, yeah,” Stiles agreed, eyes darting from Derek, eyes half closed and panting as his hips rocked up into his hand, and the road. “C’mon, don’t touch,” Stiles urged. “It’s not fair that I can’t do anything.” Instead of dignifying Stiles with a response, Derek turned in his seat and leaned over, his mouth coming into contact with the fabric of Stiles’ jeans. He felt Stiles’ hand in his hair almost immediately, half pulling him away, half pushing Derek further into his crotch. “Derek,” Stiles grit from between his teeth.

“Your body is so hot,” Derek answered, nuzzling the junction between the button and zipper of Stiles’ pants. Stiles eased off the gas pedal as they approached a red light and got into the left turn lane.

“Oh, my God. We’re actually down the street. Please just wait for like three freaking seconds and then I’m gonna have you in so many ways it’s going to make your head spin.” Derek sat up almost as quickly as he’d gone down on Stiles, taking a deep, aching breath in and forcing himself not to touch himself or Stiles. He kept his palms pressed firmly against the glove compartment of the jeep, eyes straight ahead as they pulled into the parking lot for a set of apartments. The purple and green sign boasted that “The Beacon Apartments” had the best rates for students.

“What year in school are you?” Derek bit out, forcing conversation as his fingertips pulsed, begging for contact with something other than cold metal and hot plastic.

“Huh?” Stiles asked, distracted as he parked.

“College.”

“Senior. You?”

“Getting ready to present my master’s thesis.”

“God, I’m fucking an educated man. Thank you,” Stiles said up to the heavens, or to the roof of his jeep, Derek wasn’t sure. But then they were parked, and all attempts at polite conversation dissolved the second that Stiles unbuckled his seatbelt. Derek had just enough time to unbuckle his own seatbelt before Stiles leaned over to kiss Derek hard. The rest of Stiles followed quickly after, straddling Derek in the passenger’s seat as he rocked his hips back and forward. Stiles gasped into Derek’s mouth, one hand resting against his jaw and the other clenched into a fist.

Derek’s hips bucked up in response, creating the friction that had been the ruin of the pair of them on the dance floor. Stiles’ jeep had a piss poor excuse of a sound system, but a poppy top 40s tune punctuated the gasps and grunts in the jeep. Derek whined, though he would never admit that he was capable of making a noise that high pitched and needy, and put both of his hands on Stiles’ hips and held him still. “Stiles,” he said, and Derek’s voice sounded pained to his own ears. “Fuck. Me.” There was a brief silence where Derek assumed Stiles was processing what Derek told him. Then, Stiles scrambled to open Derek’s door, leaning over to yank his keys from the ignition and getting out on the passenger side.

“C’mon, move. Fourth floor,” Stiles said, rushed and throaty. It gave Derek shivers, and he smiled as he got out of the jeep and slammed the door shut behind him as they both scrambled up the stairs.

There was a moment on the stairwell where Derek had to stop to grab Stiles’ ass and leave a mark that matched the one on the other side of his neck, but other than that, the duo managed to make it to room 406 without too much difficulty. Derek stepped gracelessly to the side as Stiles unlocked the door, focusing instead on trying his very best to get his hand into the front of Stiles’ pants without unbuttoning his jeans. Stiles laughed and pushed the door open with his shoulder as he twisted the doorknob and nearly fell inside as Derek collapsed underneath the sudden shift of their weight.

Stiles’ laugh was carefree and excited as he slammed the door shut by pushing backward against Derek and having his back close the door. “C’mon, I have to lock the door. My neighbors will come knocking when we get loud.” When. Again, the promises of things to come made Derek’s body twinge with anticipation, and he pulled his hand from where it was halfway into Stiles’ jeans with an exaggerated sigh and what might have been a whine. “I know, Derek. Believe me, I know,” he said as an apology while he turned and locked the door. Derek watched as Stiles locked the first lock, then turned the deadbolt, followed by the chain.

“Paranoid?” The word was too full in Derek’s mouth, sounding like it didn’t belong there. The only thing that Derek wanted in his mouth was Stiles, but he was still waiting.

“Cautious,” Stiles corrected with a smile and a wink. “I promise I’ll give you a full tour of the apartment as soon as I’m not trying to jump you. Bedroom is down the hall. Only door straight ahead. I’ll be there in two seconds.” Derek nodded as Stiles turned toward the kitchen (detailed only by the fact that there was a rack of pots and pans hanging on the wall), and walked the opposite direction even though everything in him was screaming for physical contact. He turned the knob on the bedroom door and walked inside. His fingers fumbled for a moment against the wall, struggling to find a light switch. When he found it, Derek’s eyes protested against the light, but adjusted slowly as stars and bursts of colored light sparkled across his vision.

Stiles’ room looked like something out of an interior design magazine, and Derek wondered if the rest of his apartment looked the same. It was masculine, with just a hint of something soft. There were paintings against the wall, of sunsets and deep woods, rich colors of reds and greens that were picked up by the throw rug at the foot of the bed. The rug looked soft and plush, and Derek toed out of his shoes and socks so that he could stand on it. The comforter of the bed looked just as soft, maybe made of down, and it was the same color red as the sun in the mural of sunrise between thick forest trees on the opposite wall. It was beautiful, and it took Derek’s breath away. He took a step back from the mural and his calves hit the back of the bed, which was indeed as soft as Derek had been expecting. He shivered against the plush that enveloped him, reveled in the way that the soft comforter felt against his bare chest.

“Wow, you look really good like that,” Derek heard from the doorway, and Derek felt himself smile and scoot up the bed so he could watch Stiles stare at him. Stiles had a grin on his face that reminded Derek of the Cheshire Cat, and shivered. “Yeah? What are you thinking right now?” Stiles’ hand went to the button of his jeans, started to pull it through the hole.

“Nothing,” Derek blurted out, but realized that wasn’t the case at all. “Everything.” Stiles laughed, but Derek knew that he wasn’t actually laughing at Derek as much as he was his disorientation. “You.” The laughter stilled instantly, and the button popped through Stiles’ jeans. “You sleep in this bed every night. It’s so soft. And you’re kind of…you look like you belong in this bed.” Stiles nodded slowly as he unzipped his jeans, and Derek was quick to yank open his belt and pull it through the belt loops. It dropped to the hardwood floor with a metallic clank, but neither man cared about the sound.

“So, when I come get in bed, what do you want?” Stiles asked, stepping out of his shoes and leaning down to tug off his socks. Derek pulled his shirt out of the back of his jeans and tossed it as far away from himself as he could. Stiles didn’t make a motion to get any closer to the bed, though, watching from the door frame. But Stiles’ chest was rising and falling rapidly, tongue darting out between his lips at random intervals to wet the tip of his cupid’s bow.

“Um?” Usually, he was the one who asked this question, the one who asked what other people wanted. And Lucas had always known exactly what he wanted. Now, though, to have options and the chance to let someone else know what he liked in bed, Derek was drawing a massive blank. “I want…” he said, but nothing came afterward. “I want…” Derek frowned.

“Hey, relax,” Stiles said, taking a step forward and coming into the light. He pulled a bottle of lube out of the back pocket of his jeans, and Derek didn’t doubt there was a condom in his other pocket. “How about I tell you what I want, and then you can tell me what you want?” Stiles’ voice was soothing as he continued to walk toward the bed until he was crawling on it, up to where Derek rested. “No pressure.” Derek nodded, jaw slack. Watching Stiles crawl onto his own bed was a sight that Derek knew would be seared into his memory for days.

“First, I want to undress you, see what kind of underwear you have on. If you wear any. Then I want to touch you and kiss you, everywhere.” Derek moaned as Stiles reached a hand down between his legs to grab his crotch. He held it with a firm hand and squeezed softly once.

“Oh, God. Oh, God. Oh, God,” Derek said, his hips lifting upward into Stiles’ hand.

“Once I know what you taste like,” Stiles continued, licking a hot stripe from the base of Derek’s neck to under his jaw. Derek exhaled trough gritted teeth. “Then I’m going to fuck you with my fingers.” Derek tensed for a second, closed his eyes as he tried not to imagine it. He knew that it would hurt, or at least be uncomfortable. He saw the face of discomfort in past boyfriends, didn’t want it to be him. “It’s okay,” Stiles said, sensing the fear. “I’ll be slow, careful. I don’t want to hurt you. I just want to make you feel good. I want to find your spot, make you come, and then I want to fuck you.” Derek made a noise that he would deny to his dying breath, but let Stiles unbutton his jeans.

“You’re so hot,” Stiles said, leaning over to kiss Derek on the mouth. Derek’s hand came up to the back of Stiles’ head, fingers slipping through his buzz cut but holding his head still so that Derek could kiss Stiles slow and deep and proper. Derek could feel Stiles’ hips rocking against his thigh as he pulled down Derek’s zipper, and Stiles broke away from the kiss with a gasp when Derek lifted up his thigh into Stiles’ crotch.

“I want to go down on you,” Derek breathed, so quietly that the only indication he had that Stiles heard him at all was the quiet ‘oh’ next to his ear. “And I want to rim you. I know that you’re fucking me, but your ass is so perfect. I wanted to since we were at the club.” Stiles nodded and pulled on Derek’s jeans, and Derek lifted his hips so that Stiles could pull them down to his knees. He didn’t let Stiles go to pull his pants off, though. Instead, he held Stiles up by his face so he could whisper in his ear. Part of him was afraid that if he wasn’t whispering, whatever this was would break, and he wouldn’t be able to get it back. “I want to leave marks all over your neck, on your collar and your hips. I want to feel you come all over me.” Derek punctuated his last request with a nip to Stiles’ earlobe, and the motion was enough to send them propelling back into action.

Stiles moved first, swooping out of Derek’s hold to yank his jeans the rest of the way down his body. While he was at the foot of the bed, Stiles tugged his own jeans off unceremoniously before pulling off Derek’s. Stiles wasn’t wearing any underwear.

Derek’s mouth went dry. “You,” he started, and then had to stop to work his tongue in his mouth to make sure he could still form words. His boxer briefs were tight around him, verging on painful as he watched Stiles stroke himself idly, watching Derek watching him. Derek’s thighs quivered as he forced himself to sit up. “You’re so fucking _hot_.” Stiles’ eyebrows quirked up and he grinned and knelt back on the bed. Derek was on him in an instant, pulling Stiles down onto the bed and pinning him on his back before Stiles had the time to try and orient himself. In another second, Derek’s mouth was dropping kisses on Stiles’ thighs, and kissing again in the places that twitched when his lips touched them. His tongue was starting to draw half-moons and circles into Stiles’ upper thighs when Stiles groaned from above him, raw.

“Oh, my God. Stop teasing me and suck my dick,” he demanded, flexing his fingers from their hold on the comforter. Derek chuckled with his jaw at the junction between Stiles’ thigh and groin, and he felt Stiles’ hand on his head, begging him wordlessly forward.

Derek opened his mouth and his tongue came out to lick, flat and thick, from the base to the tip of Stiles’ cock before his lips followed his tongue and wrapped around the head. Stiles made a low-pitched gasping sound and his fingers tightened in Derek’s hair, so Derek let his mouth slip further down on Stiles’ cock. His head started a slow bob that rocked with Stiles’ attempts to still his hips from thrusting upward, and groaned when one thrust couldn’t be staved off.

Stiles sat up, no doubt with an apology on his lips, but Derek looked up at him as he licked away a trail of spit from his mouth to Stiles’ dick, and winked. He had no idea where the wink came from. He never winked. “I like it. I’m not a virgin, I promise,” Derek said, and Stiles gave a quiet, unbelieving chuckle before he let his head fall back against the pillows.

“C’mon, then,” Stiles said after he’d composed himself, and Derek chuckled, but obliged. He rested back on his elbows and pressed a kiss to the head of Stiles’ cock, reached down to palm himself through the cotton, and sank his lips back down over Stiles. He held Stiles’ thigh with one hand to keep himself stable as he bobbed his head. “Fuck,” Stiles moaned, followed by “ngh, oh fuck, Derek.” Derek assumed he got that response after he took Stiles into his throat and swallowed before pulling back.

“Yeah?” Derek asked, too far into what he was doing to be bothered with decency at the fact that his voice sounded like he’d been giving head. It was low and scratchy, even after Derek cleared his throat.

“Wow, no.” Stiles must have noticed his voice. “Okay, come here,” he said, scrambling to move. He was quick and efficient in stripping Derek of his boxer briefs, taking a moment to appreciate that Derek’s cock was long and thick and hard. “Just, lie down. I’m gonna. Fuck, where did I put the lube? I can’t believe I’ve got you here, naked, in my bed and you’re just…wow, God you’re really hot. And your knees are bent and you look like, Jesus where did I put it?”

Gears started to turn in Derek’s head as he watched Stiles’ frantic searching along the edge of the bed, half smiling and half wondering where the confident, sexy man who’d picked him up had gone. “You’re freaking out?” Derek asked.

“Of course I’m freaking out,” Stiles snorted, like Derek should have known that was what was happening. “I’ve got you on my bed. You’re quite possibly the hottest piece of ass I’ve seen in years. If you were me you’d freak out, too. Oh, I found it!” Stiles leaned over the bed and grabbed the lube from where it had fallen on the floor. Derek chuckled softly to ward off the anticipation creeping up his chest. He wanted this, though. He wanted Stiles any way he could have him: tonight, in the morning, a week from now. His mind wouldn’t let him think any further into the future, but Stiles was definitely someone that Derek could get used to in his bed.

The sound of the cap of the bottle popping open refocused Derek slowly to the present, where Stiles was drizzling lube over his finger. He caught Derek’s eye and winked. Derek cringed and Stiles laughed. “Yes, that’s how cheesy it looks,” Stiles affirmed, and Derek started to respond when he felt Stiles’ finger at his entrance. Both of them stilled, but Derek broke first.

“Just, be—“

“If you tell me to be careful I’m putting you out. It’s no fun if you’re not having fun. Just—“

“Relax, yeah. I’ve said that before.” Derek made a concerted effort to relax the muscles in his shoulders, roll them down and work his way down to his toes. Somewhere in between relaxing his stomach muscles and his thighs, Stiles pushed into Derek slowly. Derek winced, then grunted as he tried to remember how to relax. He tried to remind himself that he’d done this to other men before, that he could have sworn they’d looked like it felt good.

“That’s not how it works. Especially not your first time,” Stiles said, and Derek opened his eyes—he hadn’t realized he’d ever closed them—to find Stiles looking down at Derek from his knees. Derek rose an eyebrow; Stiles seemed to be able to guess what he was thinking, and it was disconcerting and oddly reassuring at the same time. “I’ve been here before. I know what it feels like. Especially high. You have to just pay attention to your body, because it’s telling you shit that like…you were never paying attention to before.” What Stiles said would seem ludacris when Derek would look back on it later, but in the moment, it seemed to make sense in a most absolute way. He nodded, and Stiles smiled and ran his free hand down Derek’s thigh. The move was oddly gentle compared to the insistent push of Stiles’ finger in his ass, and it made Derek’s legs feel heavier, harder to support themselves while in bed.

A fleeting thought came and went that Erica really was never going to let him live this down when they talked about it. But in the same moment he had that thought, Derek must have twitched or moved or something because he felt the push give way. “ _Hah, mnh_ , Stiles,” he gasped, and his hand shot out across the bed to grasp at the comforter. It didn’t hurt, not like the pushing did. Instead Derek felt fuller, and he groaned when he realized how much he could get to like the idea of having Stiles inside of him.

“How are you— _real_?” Stiles’ voice sounded pained, and his face was twisted in a look that Derek couldn’t quite figure out. Then, though, Stiles closed his eyes and dropped his forehead against Derek’s knee and groaned. His chest shook with it, and Derek felt the vibrations of it in his knee, which would have tickled if the sound Stiles had just made wasn’t the hottest thing he’d ever heard. Derek huffed, which was almost a laugh and almost something else that Derek didn’t want to try and figure out.

“What?” It took a moment for Stiles to compose himself enough to answer.

“You’re so fucking…tight, and hot, and the noises you make are just, oh my God, and I really can’t wait to see what you look like when you come.” Derek’s eyes opened wide and a shiver went up his spine.

“Stiles,” Derek said weakly, and reached out to try and touch something on Stiles, settling for his fingertips brushing against his thigh. Stiles looked into his eyes, and Derek could see the desire behind them, the way his eyebrows were drawn tight as he stared at Derek. “C’mon, do something.” Derek didn’t quite wiggle his hips to remind Stiles that he still had a finger in his ass—that was far too beneath him—but he wasn’t above “stretching” just a little bit. Stiles chuckled and withdrew his finger before adding more lube and repeating the slow pushing process that Derek still wasn’t entirely comfortable with. But Stiles moved slowly, and Derek didn’t have to ask him to slow down, something he didn’t think his pride would be able to let him do.

But then there was always that moment where the insistent pushing feeling would give way to something else, something less than pain but not quite pleasure. It came a little faster the second time around, and Derek exhaled slowly as the anticipation in his stomach started to melt away. “You’re so good at this, Derek,” Stiles said quietly, and Derek felt him pull his finger away while he spoke. When his fingers came back, there was a second one, coated in lube, joining the first. “You’re taking my fingers so well. How does it feel?” Stiles asked, slowly pressing two fingers into Derek’s ass.

“Ah,” was all Derek could say back at first, and he started to wince, but waited for the feeling of not pleasure but hinting at it.

“Breathe,” Stiles had to remind him, and Derek let a breath out in a rush, and then sucked in two or three deep breaths before he realized that the pain was gone, and that Stiles was rocking his fingers in and out of Derek slowly, running his hand along Derek’s thigh again.

“It’s not…it doesn’t _hurt_ ,” Derek said, trying to put his thoughts together to answer Stiles’ question. “It’s just, it doesn’t feel good?” Derek frowned, knowing that he wasn’t doing a good job of explaining himself, but Stiles nodded deeply, like he knew exactly what Derek was talking about. He focused on the feeling of Stiles’ fingers pushing back into him, and instead of the not pain that he was feeling, he felt a glimmer of pleasure. “Oh, wait, do that again,” Derek near demanded, and Stiles complied, pulling his fingers out and pushing them into Derek again. As he finished pushing in, Stiles straightened his fingers before bending them.

There.

“Stiles, fuck,” Derek groaned, and Stiles answered it with one of his own before repeating the motion. He did it again and again and again before Derek was gasping for breath underneath him. “Touch me,” he whispered, and suddenly it was the most urgent need he’d ever experienced. His erection had waned some when Stiles had first started, but it was filling again, and Derek felt like he was going crazy. He’d always been in better control of his emotions and reactions than this. But Stiles seemed to be the exception to more than one of his rules.

“I knew you would be a pushy bottom,” Stiles joked, but ran his hand up Derek’s thigh and gave his cock a light, playful squeeze. “I can play this game, though.” Then, he started to stroke Derek, slow and tight and deliberate, to the rhythm of his fingers thrusting in and out of him. Derek remembered to breathe, and his hands curled into the comforter again as his hips started to betray just how conflicted he was. Every time his hips jerked up into the hand jerking him off, his ass would lift off of Stiles’ fingers and they would drag out of his ass, a sensation that he wanted to experience again and again, so his hips would pivot back down, and the process would repeat.“Fuck, Derek, you look so good like that. Fucking yourself on my hand, Jesus. You look so hot.” Stiles’ constant praises of him were definitely not lacking, and Derek had never been this turned on by the way someone talked about him before. His hips started moving more frantically against Stiles when two fingers in his ass became three and the burn of the insistent pushing was less intense and Stiles’ fingers were moving less slow and more come on hurry fuck me now.

“Stiles, I can’t—you have—I’m gonna,” he gasped as he felt his toes start to curl. Derek’s mouth dropped open as he struggled for breath, and his thighs started to quiver.

“Oh, God, yeah, come on, Derek. Come for me. I want you to love this. God, you’re so good. C’mon, come for me.”

Just like that, Derek was coming. His hips stilled completely before jerking forward and backward into Stiles’ palm. He gasped, and then panted for a second before succumbing to a rumbling groan as he came. He felt the first splash of his come on his stomach, and another further up his abdomen, and shuddered when he felt some run down the head of his cock before Stiles’ hand could wipe it away.

In the next moment, Stiles’ fingers were pulling out of him, and Derek whined, oversensitive and overstimulated and seeing colors and spots as his eyes tried to focus. He was vaguely aware of the fact that he was trying to sit up, to figure out where Stiles was, but then Stiles’ hand was in the middle of his chest, careful to avoid the puddle of come on his stomach and spots on his chest.

“Hey, hey I’ve got you. I’m gonna fuck you now, yeah?” Stiles asked, and Derek made a noise that he thought sounded like assent. “Whoa, hey, look at me,” Stiles whispered, and Derek took great pains to open his eyes and meet Stiles’. In the light of the room, Derek could see the golden brown of Stiles’ irises, covered by dilated pupils. He looked almost otherworldly. Derek’s mouth went dry. “You good?”

“Fuck me, Stiles,” was the only response that Derek could get his lips to create, and Stiles was stumbling over himself to find the condom he’d tossed aside and tore it open.

“Put it on me.” Yes. Derek could do that. Derek would do that in a heartbeat, every day if Stiles asked him to. He took the condom and sat up enough to see how hard Stiles was. Precome leaked from his cock and it twitched in a constant throb as Derek rolled the condom over it, giving Stiles a few slow, languid pulls before Stiles was pulling away from Derek’s hand and reaching once again for the lube.

“I want to. I want to play. But, fuck, Derek, I need you.” Derek just nodded and dropped his head, heavy, back onto the pillows. He felt the head of Stiles’ cock moments later, careful, lined up, and then there was pressure.

Stiles hissed before Derek had the chance to make a sound. Just in the first push, Stiles was making small, whiny noises that sounded like a mix between curses and prayers, and small thrusts at a time, he worked until he was buried inside of Derek. Derek hardly felt the discomfort, and then Stiles was leaning over his face, looking at him with awe and reverence.

“What?” Derek breathed, suddenly self-conscious.

“No, you’re so…tight. Hot.” Stiles groaned and dropped his forehead against Derek’s shoulder before he lifted his lips just enough to bite down into the muscles between Derek’s shoulder and neck. Derek clawed at the comforter and Stiles snapped his hips forward, then followed the motion with a roll of his hips, and just like that, it was like they were dancing again.

“Stiles, oh God, Stiles,” Derek whimpered, clutching alternatively between the muscles of his back and the sheets. Nothing was good enough purchase to stop the heat that burned in his stomach up to his chest and down into his toes. Nothing was enough to shut off the string of shameless noises that fell from his lips as he begged Stiles to fuck him harder.

“Derek,” Stiles said, his voice dark and low and dangerous. Like what Derek was telling him was going to get him into trouble. Stiles pushed himself up to lift Derek’s left leg and hook his ankle over his right shoulder before snapping his hips forward again, and Derek felt his cock slap his belly.

“Fuck! Stiles, oh god, _ohgod_ yeah again, again, again, fuck me like that.” And Stiles did, the quiet whimpers of half-words replaced by loud moans and grunts and flesh rubbing against flesh, keening, needy noises from Derek and near-growling from Stiles. When Derek shifted just a hair to the right and felt Stiles’ entire cock inside of him, there was a moment of complete silence as they acknowledged the moment, the room tense and hot with so much desire and an underlying spark.

The silence was broken as Stiles’ hips stuttered, faltered in their rhythm, and he panted Derek’s name. “Oh my God, I’m so close,” Stiles warned between his frantic gasping for breath.

“Yes. Yes, please. Wanna feel you.” Derek wondered for a fraction of a second how he’d been reduced to grunts and broken sentences, but the thought was washed away as Stiles’ hand wrapped around his cock and started jerking him off again. Derek arched his hips and fucked up into Stiles’ hand. Stiles chased him, fucking him with his hips in the air, deep and solid and hot until Derek came with a shout and spilled over Stiles’ fingers.

“C’mon, Stiles, your turn,” Derek demanded, grinding his hips to meet Stiles’ thrusts, desperate to help the man find his release. It followed shortly after, and Stiles came with a choked off cry before letting Derek’s leg down and collapsing on top of him. He didn’t care about the come between them, didn’t care about the sweat or the heat. He cared about their raging heartbeats as they struggled to get their breath back, taking their time. Derek’s arms came up around Stiles’ back, and his hands traced nonsense around his spine until Stiles sighed, content that he could actually breathe again.

“Oh. My. God.” was the first thing that Stiles said. Derek chuckled next to his ear.“I bet you say that to all your conquests,” he huffed, feigning offense. Stiles shook his head from its place on Derek’s chest, but made no other motion to get up.

“You’re the first person I’ve brought home since…long time. Hopefully the last for a while.” Derek made a face, but said nothing. “Go out with me.” The face receded.

“Right now?” he joked. “But we’re all sticky.” Stiles laughed in his ear, breathless and happy.

“Dingus,” he retorted, and then it was Derek’s turn to laugh. “I can help with the sticky, though. My shower head is awesome. Well, I mean, the fixture itself ain’t so bad either.” Derek was startled into another laugh at the joke, and Stiles took the time to pull out, take care of the condom, and sit up. Like a gentleman, he said nothing about the mess smeared between them, but held out his hand, waiting for Derek to take it. Derek looked up at him, suddenly uncertain.

The fuck had been fantastic, and he hadn’t thought about Lucas since he set eyes on Stiles, which was a good thing. He had no reason to say no to a shower, to a date. He would never hear the end of it from Erica. He saw eagerness in Stiles’ eyes, and he figured that maybe her smugness was worth it. He nodded once, shortly, and took Stiles’ hand in his.

“C’mon.”


End file.
